slow dancing in a burning room
by LovelyLittleMudblood
Summary: they were meant for each other, but they were never meant to last.
1. the Pure and the Filthy?

i would love to thank my Beta for her notes and words of encouragement for this one ! thank you Alana, you are simply lovely!

"You hurt me, Draco."

"I'm sorry."

And indeed, he is sorry. For the first time in his life he is sorry. His regret radiates from him like heat from a sun. In his kiss she can taste his bitter agony, the soul crushing emotional turmoil he is experiencing. She can feel it in the way that he holds her tightly against him. His mouth collides with hers like a beautiful shipwreck. He is like a drowning man coming to shore. His kiss is rough, raw, and wrenching. She can't breathe – there is no time or space for oxygen – it's him and her and nothing else. She is separated from him only by her gossamer thin Slytherin green evening gown , he can feel her pounding heart against his chest. She wants to pull away, she wants to run away from him – that is what her gut tells her to do – but let's face it; her instincts have been broken ever since The Marriage Law forced her into Draco Malfoy's bed. Her instincts are useless, like a broken alarm clock, and she can't rely on them as she could in the past. She tells herself to run away but doesn't. Instead, she lets it go on, and on. Time stretches out before them like a red carpet to the stars, and every sweet second is its own little slice of infinity .

How do they do this? Really, how do they – forget everything and gorge themselves on each other. Again, they get drunk on each other and the way their mutual lust drives them. They act as if their passion makes it okay or even right, because he loves her and he loves to hurt her and she loves him and she loves to hurt him in return and they don't know how else it should be done.

This isn't the place for what they are doing – this is a library. Outside is a ball room full of people. At any second someone could walk in – but she is long past caring what is appropriate. The rules were discarded long ago, burned to a crisp by the life she leads. With great difficulty, he pauses briefly. He rasps out a colloportus charm and casts a silencio spell to ensure their privacy. They fall back into each other surrendering to demands of their passions, a seductive slow dance around the dying embers of all the "should be's."


	2. the mudblood and the defiant

Mudbloods and Defiance

"You hurt me, Hermione".

"I'm sorry."

He tastes the salt of her tears as he sucks on her lower lip, his hands clutching her hair like she is a lifeboat. She has so much to be sorry for – but then, so does he. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." she mumbles the words against his skin like a spell, as if her incantation will somehow save them both. He peels the gown away from her quivering body. She kisses him like it's their own secret language, like her mouth is the quill and his skin is the parchment and she proceeds to etch erotic poems over every inch of him. And he lets her feast freely upon him. Her tongue in the hollow of his neck, payment for pushing him away when he knew she needed him. Her lips trail across his collarbone, atonement for their tryst in the closet and her cruel words afterward. One, two, three, four hot open-mouthed kisses on his flushed cheeks, for not letting him explain about defiance .

He buries his face between her breasts. He briefly sinks his teeth into her softness, forcing an aroused sharp gasp from her lips. He wants to leave his mark on her flesh. A reminder and retribution for the last three years spent fighting with her, when all he wanted was to spend every minute drowning in her splendor. His bites, retribution for the three years of bittersweet torture that has been the hallmark of his marriage to Hermione Granger. He kisses his way down her limbs until he reaches the folds of her most sensitive skin. He nips the tender flesh under her navel as her breath hitches. He returns to her core –delving into the hardness amidst the softness. Her body responds to his touch as though he and he alone were made to plunder her depths. He welcomes her passions, taking everything she offers and leaving her drained, but full and alive. The pleasure that he provides gives her peace. She flourishes in the warmth of his passion. Again, she tells him, "I'm sorry," and he whispers back, "I know."


	3. the pureblood and the confusing love

Purebloods and confusing love

"You hurt me, Malfoy"

"I'm sorry."

They carry on for hours. Talking, loving, sleeping, it doesn't matter what they are doing, so long as they are touching. They lie on floor next to her desk in the library, naked and sweaty and tangled up in each other like knotted ribbons, and she can't remember the last time she felt this relaxed, this happy. Their guests have tried to come in a few times. They need this time. It is only now, together, that they realize how hollow and empty they have been these past years – how they have only been brittle shells of themselves until they had the other to make them whole once more. He kisses her neck softly, then with increasing urgency, inhaling the scent of her and letting it fill him up. She turns to her side and straddles him with her leg. She presses against his body against hers until her bones ache, until it seems like all the laws of physics and matter have dissolved to dust, and the barriers between their bodies fall away. Their souls become one. How gloriously, tragically, miserably, confusingly, desperately he loves her. How gloriously, tragically, miserably, confusingly, desperately she loves him back . She wonders how a body can feel so much emotion with spontaneous combustion. She never knew that being so overwhelmed could be so achingly lovely. Without question, they are most definitely ill-fated. They both this. It's in the way that his fingers stroke the hollow of her hip so gently, with such aching melancholy. But even as their lives slowly, surely, fall apart, she is happy here. Just like this, the two of them holding each other, keeping each other safe through the storm. The comfort is genuine, even if it was forced by law.


	4. indulging in nights no longer alone

"You hurt me. Granger"

"I'm sorry."

They indulge their passions until long after the sun goes down. And as the stars make themselves visible in the darkening sky, words somehow formulate inside her chest and crawl up her throat, and come out of her mouth like a new river, the stream coming slowly at first, but then rushing out all at once . Her usual filters are gone, because she is exhausted in every way she can think of, and they have never been so soft and vulnerable and unguarded with each other, and she likes being able to talk to him, really talk to him, and let him into her inner sanctum a little bit. She is so alone in the world , and he makes her feel less alone. It's as simple as that – and sometimes, her instinctive need to feel less alone bypasses her brain and makes these words come out, words she will be embarrassed of later, but words that need to be said. It is very late and because of this she is hiding from her friends in her library. He watched her slip into her sanctuary to escape. He followed her here and it means the earth and beyond that he wants another chance. That he wants to give her another chance. That he didn't give up on them the way she had feared. She has been a goner for three years; she loves him and she doesn't know how to stop. Her feelings are a hurricane and she has no choice but to let the storm play out. Because her heart wants what it wants – she is powerless, utterly powerless. And he understands- because he is the same – he loves ardently and without reserve and it has been so hard on both of them. He hates having to quietly suppress something as natural, as big and as beautiful as his feelings for her.

None of this is easy. Even being together isn't easy. Because he hurt her and he is sorry, and she hurt him and she is sorry, and this whole thing is like treading barefoot over a graveyard of thorns. She bleeds for him. She loves him and she would do – has done – everything for him, even when every cell in her body screamed at her not to. And he loves her, Merlin does he love her, and she has no idea the things he would do- the things he has done for her. He has risked everything countless times, his pride won't left him tell her. Fishing for gratitude doesn't sit well with him but he'd do it all again, just to get a little piece of her to tide him over until the next time. Her heart aches every night when she goes to sleep alone in a bed that isn't really hers. It doesn't even smell like her because she spends so little time in it. Ever night, he goes sleeps in a cold bed because the woman he loves is sleeping in a guest room. Every night, fear of rejection holds them hostage, they cannot bring themselves to walk down the hall to be with the person they really want to be with. Never have they had a whole night together. Oh they have had many titillating afternoons and frequent, passionate daytime interludes, but never a whole night together. He longs to sleep after they make love and wake up beside her. He wants to watch the morning sun kiss the angles of her face. She takes a risk; her soul knows he wants to stay. She wants it too. She wants everything. So tonight, she asks him, "please stay". And he tells her, "Whatever you want,Hermone" She smiles shyly, tucking her head against him. She is so very tired. It is indescribably wonderful, being soft and sweet and naked and defenseless with him. No pretense, no composure, no gladiator in a white hat. No Mrs. Hermione Granger-Malfoy. Just Hermione, with Draco, the man she loves to distraction. Just Hermione, the person behind the Malfoy Mask of propriety that she wears outside these walls. She curls up beside him like a sleepy kitten, and he strokes her hair until she falls asleep. And for the first time in three years she spends a whole night with her Husband.


	5. lingering apologies

"You hurt me, Draco."

"I'm sorry."

Hermione's clothes are scattered everywhere, her shirt and her pants and her belt and her socks her jacket. It takes several minutes to get all the pieces back together. They spend so much time undressing each other that it amuses Hermione to let Draco put her clothes back on for her, for a change. He is careful and methodical, starting with her lacey underwear, then putting on her socks and her pants, her bra and the rest. He runs his fingers through her silken curls, wordlessly casting a glamour charm to coax them in some semblance of order. He assesses her, his beautiful storm grey eyes and bites his lip, focusing intently on making her presentable. It is equal parts sweet domesticity and disarmingly sexy. She is tempted by the urge to rip off his clothes and demonstrate her gratitude in the most basic of ways. But he puts the finishing touches on her hair and then sighs, running a hand through his own. She can see the machinery turn back on in his head, the cogs gaining speed and rubbing against each other, as he decides what to do.

She stares at him intently. Her eyes are shiny and soft, the room's fluorescent lights dancing across her irises. "There are some things I need to take care of today. But I will see you…soon." He says It is a statement as much as it is a question. He takes the five steps necessary to close the distance between them. He gently anchors his hand on her chin, and plants a kiss on her nose, soft as rose petals. "Soon," he promises. "I'm sorry". The last notes of their apologies linger, though these kisses are less anguished than they were the previous night.

It's funny, because she had been ready to give up on him, on them. Just the other day – so much seemed to have gone so wrong that she could not fathom how they would ever crawl their way out of the wreckage. But today, they have begun the process. He is still here and this isn't over, not yet. He has hurt her, and she has hurt him, and they are both sorry, so sorry. And they have not stopped loving each other. Though her heart is skittish and escape-prone, he convinced her last night that he loves her. He loves her, even when he is angry at her, even when something has gone wrong. It's not a permanent fix – the air is lighter but still raw and uncertain between them. It's enough, enough for now. She came to her library for sanctuary. Her emotions were in a terrible place. She had felt alone, but she leaves the security of her library with her head high, her heels clicking confidently – a woman who, in this moment, feels loved. Loved by the one person she thought only pretend to love her. They both know, it's just a matter of time, before they fall apart again. Merlin knows, despite all of their protestations to the contrary, they are doing nothing but slow dancing in a burning room, refusing to acknowledge the raging inferno that has doomed them from the start. Because they were meant for each other but they were never meant to last.

"You hurt me"

"I'm sorry".

And Gods are they sorry.


	6. yes or no not a chapter

thinking of adding more to this one... yes or no? is it good how it is.


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